


Jumin's Cherries

by SilverAndGreen



Series: Indulgence of Hatred [1]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anger, Bottom Zen, Choking, Consensual Non-Consent, Dom!Jumin, Dominance, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Forced blow job, Hair-pulling, Hate Sex, Jaehee Kang's Route, Jumin POV, Jumin is kind of mean but it's all okay, Juzen, Kitchen Sex, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, M/M, Masturbation, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Slight Pain Kink, Smut, slight praise kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 03:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9697994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverAndGreen/pseuds/SilverAndGreen
Summary: Jumin finds himself enraged when he comes back home from a long day or work, and finds an uninvited guest has eaten almost all of his beloved cherries.[Aka Jumin doms Zen as if his life depends on it]---“Jumin,” Zen moans against the older man’s lips, who replies with a dark chuckle. “No you don’t,” he says, “You call me Mr. Han. Iownyou now.”---- No main plot spoilers (based on Jaehee's route) -





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooo~
> 
> This is my first-ever smut, and I really wanted to write a JuminxZen drabble, because I'm honestly so weak for them (do we have a shipname for them yet, because I'm waiting). 
> 
> The storyline is based on Jaehee's route, and is entirely spoiler-free from the main plot (I haven't even finished the game myself, lmao).
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy; please leave me some feedback, because I'd love to write more smut in the future. Any tips would really help me! x

****

### Jumin’s Cherries

****

**Jumin Han has entered the chatroom.**

**Jumin Han**  
Good evening.

 **Yoosung***  
Heyaa~

 **707**  
Mr. Han has arrived!

 **Jumin Han**  
I am not your boss.  
Please do not call me Mr. Han.

 **707**  
T_T

 **Yoosung***  
How was the cherry farm, Jumin? Are you home again?

 **Jumin Han**  
Yes, I have arrived back home safely. 

**Zen has entered the chatroom.**

**Zen**  
Oh… cherries are great.

 **Jumin Han**  
They are strictly for Elizabeth the 3rd.  
She loves them more than anything else in the world.  
They seem to put her in a very good mood.

 **707**  
Hmmm… Don’t they say the cherry is the fruit of seduction??  
Is Elly trying to seduce u?!!

 **Yoosung***  
OMG…!!

 **Jumin Han**  
Don’t be ridiculous.  
She does not need to seduce me; she is perfect the way she is.

 **707**  
I wish Elly would seduce me T_T;;

 **Zen**  
That’s a strange thing to say, Seven…

 **Yoosung***  
omg… Does Seven love Elizabeth that much??

 **Jumin Han**  
That cat abuser does not _love_ my Elizabeth the 3rd.

 **707**  
I do! Elly, Elly, my sweeeet Elly… so sooooft… 

**Jumin Han**  
Stop.  
Anyway, while picking cherries – or rather having others pick them for me – I came up with a brilliant new project. A cat hotel!

 **Zen**  
…

 **Yoosung***  
A cat… hotel?

 **707**  
O 

M

G

!!

I want to sleep there!

 **Jumin Han**  
No. It is a hotel for cats and owners – with only the most premium food and service.

 **707**  
Ooooh lololol so exciting! I hope one gets built in front of my house~

 **Yoosung***  
Why do I feel like this will be more work for Jaehee?

 **Zen**  
Agreed…

 **Jumin Han**  
Assistant Kang is my best card, naturally I want to put her on the project.  
She will be appropriately rewarded.

 **Zen**  
Let me guess… with money.

 **Jumin Han**  
Correct.

 **Zen**  
Not everything is about money, Jumin.  
Of course you would never be able to understand that…  
When Jaehee was here to take care of me when I had hurt my leg, she hardly even slept!

 **Jumin Han**  
She is a hard worker.

 **Zen**  
She deserves a holiday!

**Jaehee Kang has entered the chatroom**

**Jaehee Kang**  
Haha…  
Hahahaha… A cat hotel…?

 **Jumin Han**  
Yes. Assistant Kang please set up a proposal today.  
I wish to present it to the board of directors tomorrow.

 **Yoosung***  
Wow… so harsh…

 **707**  
Poor Jaehee!!

 **Jaehee Kang**  
Yes, Mr. Han.

 **Jumin Han**  
Excellent. I will take my leave now and feed Elizabeth the 3rd her cherries.

 **Zen**  
I really can’t stand you, you know?

 **Jumin Han**  
You don’t have to. Then, goodbye.

**Jumin Han has left the chatroom**

Jumin puts his smartphone down on the table in front of him, smiling as he glances at Elizabeth the 3rd who is sleeping peacefully on the couch next to him, burrowed comfortably in her embroidered, hand-woven, Egyptian silken blanket. She lets out a content sigh, and Jumin feels his heart leap. It is a strange thing how no human has ever succeeded in making him feel any type of affection, yet he holds so much love for this beautiful, white-furred creature. Actually, it isn’t strange; Elizabeth the 3rd is pure, and humans are mostly rotten and selfish – a waste of his time.

The black-haired man gets up from his couch and walks into the kitchen. He finds his basket of cherries where he left it on top the cooking island, which is carved out of the most elegant black marble, custom made for him to match the rest of his kitchen. It is truly a shame how little use he makes of this room himself; then again, he simply does not have the time to cook for himself. 

He runs his hand over the smooth surface as he approaches the richly filled basket, hungrily eyeing the bright red fruit and picking a single cherry off its stem. For a moment he holds the small round thing between his fingers, observing the quality, then takes a straw from within a container next to the basket and sticks it in the fruit to pop out the seed. He brings the cherry to his lips and carefully takes a bite out of it, letting the flesh roll over his tongue. It is so juicy that despite his attempt to not spill, he feels drops of liquid run down his fingers. 

Out of panic not to drop any on the floor, Jumin pushes the other half of the fruit in his mouth and quickly lets his tongue glide over the mess on his fingers, ending the movement with briefly sucking on the tip of his index finger, then swallowing and licking his lips. There is something strange about these cherries, Jumin knows. 

The first time he had one, he had been in a different mood all night – not being able to shake the feeling that his body _craved_ something. Something primal. He had caught himself wrapping his hand around his throbbing cock, not being able to control himself; as if his brain had switched to auto-pilot. As far as it came to orgasms, that had been one of the best of his life; a better high than any woman or man had ever been able to bring him to in all the years of his life. 

It is true that Jumin had never really seen sex more than a business transaction, as he did with most things in life; pleasure for pleasure. However, since discovering the effect of the cherries, Jumin had realised no one he has ever been with compares to that feeling; no one has ever had him longing for more.

Useless. All of them.

And there it is again. That same feeling creeps up on him, greeting him like an old friend he has been dying to see for a long, long time, nestling itself in his stomach and below. These cherries are sweeter than any other fruit Jumin has ever tasted in his life, and he wonders whether the farmers might have done something strange to them during the growing stage. Surely this isn’t normal? How one little piece of fruit could make him feel like this; like an uncontrollable beast.

While boring his teeth in his bottom lip he glances down, feeling his black trousers pull tighter around his nether regions as the blood soars into his cock.

_Fuck._

Without hesitation he undoes his belt, pops open the button of his trousers, and pulls it to below his waist and his black underwear with it. As he wraps his left hand around the base of his cock, he groans softly and leans back against the kitchen counter behind him for stability. 

Slowly, he starts shifting up and down with a practiced hand, strengthening the grip a little as he reaches the top and lets his thumb rub over his tip, just how he likes it, soaking it in pre-come. He can feel his heart beating faster, and his breathing becoming more and more irregular, and he closes his eyes and lets his head lean back against one of the kitchen cabinets. As he pumps his hand over his hot, almost painfully, throbbing member, faster and faster, his mind wanders off; his brain automatically scanning through visual images to find one suitable to accompany the raging orgasm that would soon be soaring through his entire body. Then, much to Jumin’s dismay, it happens again.

His mind projects a silver-haired man kneeling down in front of him, more beautiful than any other human alive as far as Jumin knows, opening his mouth and taking his cock in entirely, curling his warm, wet tongue around his tip, then sliding it down his shaft completely, ending at his base where Jumin can feel himself entirely taken in, the warmth of the man’s mouth around him feeling _so good_ , making him moan loudly. Jumin runs a hand through those silver strands, guiding the man back and forth faster, fucking him back slightly with the little power he still has as his entire body goes weak and his legs start to shake. Jumin opens his mouth and moans loudly as he comes hard, the entirety of his orgasm spilling in the man’s mouth, who moans softly as he swallows everything eagerly and willingly. The black-haired man looks down at him as some of his come drips down the corners of his mouth, and Jumin thrust into him one last time and—

Suddenly, he is alone in his kitchen again, panting heavily, and a wet mess bundled up in his hand. There is a moment of intense shame as he glances around, realising what just happened; and not for the first time either. He pulls up his underwear and trousers, quickly rinsing the filth off his hand under the faucet.

Out of all people he could fantasise about – all people in the world;

Why did it have to be Zen?

###### 

The next day is as busy as expected, and Jumin finds himself too distracted to be able to fully concentrate on his work. For the fourth time that day, he calls Jaehee into his office to summarise a report for him verbally, not in any state to take in the words on paper.

“Mr. Han… You’ve asked me to work on the cat hotel proposal too.”

“I have.”

“I have not had any time yet to put it together, since you keep calling me in to read you reports.”

“You can do that tonight. I will double your hourly pay while you work on the hotel proposal.”

“I—“ Jaehee averts her eyes to the floor. “Yes, Mr. Han.”

The rest of the day is a drag; Jaehee keeps running around back and forth, swamped in work, while Jumin keeps a close eye on the clock, which seems to tick significantly slower than usual. All he can think about is getting home and sinking his teeth into one of his cherries, his body achingly hungering after more of that heavenly arousal that would end in divine pleasure. Only thinking about it sends a whirl of pleasant electric jolts down his stomach and cock. 

Every time Jumin gets a new batch of cherries he is haunted by an insatiable need, knowing that touching himself is only able to chase shards of that away for a short period of time. It isn’t only _physical_ need, no. It is much more than that; knowing what the fruit will do to him, and how hard he will be able to make himself come plays a big part in it. Without a batch of hand-picked cherries, Jumin finds himself to have a lot less patience for the world around him.

_It is an addiction._

Naturally he has covered up the fact that the cherries are not for his beloved Elizabeth, but purely for himself, knowing that if anyone were ever to find out what Jumin _really_ wants them for, it could possible cause a scandal. No. He has an image to maintain, and being a sex-crazed maniac is not something he sees to fit into that image. This is one of the reasons Jumin does not try to involve anyone into his addiction, knowing that if he would let himself loose there would be no turning back.

With a deep sigh the man takes another look at the clock, and is pleasantly surprised to find it is almost time to go home. A faint grin pulls at the corner of his mouth, but he suppresses it. 

Soon Jumin finds himself pacing through the hallway towards the office exit, the jacket of his suit folded over his arm – unprofessionally, he knows, but he does not find the time to care about that right now – and his leather briefcase in his hand. 

“Oh, Mr. Han!” 

Jaehee’s voice comes from behind him, and he slows down for her to be able to catch up. He glances to his side and finds her walking next to him now, her face slightly redder than usual and her short, brown hair poking wildly into every direction.

“Yes?”

“Did you read the RFA chat?”

Jumin frowns. “No, I have not had the time.”

Jaehee seems a little distraught. “Well I— err, Zen is—“

“Zen?”

Jumin stops to look at his assistant for a moment, his frown deepening.

“Is he hurt or in danger?”

“No.”

“Then I do not care.”

“But Mr. Han—“

The glass door before him is opened by a guard, and Jumin steps into the fresh air, two other guards nodding at him as he approaches his car. He takes his usual seat as Driver Kim swings the door open for him with a, “Good evening, Mr. Han.”

When the door slams shut, Jumin pushes the button to roll his window down, and finds Jaehee staring at him from outside with something close to desperation in her eyes – something unlike her.

“Zen says he is—“

“Assistant Kang, I know you care for Zen a great deal, but I simply do not. If Zen is safe can this wait until later? I will read the chat myself when I arrive home.”

“But when you arrive home he will—“

“Please. I have important business to attend to. Driver Kim?”

The car starts driving and soon Jaehee is left behind standing on the sidewalk, staring after her boss. Jumin has to admit there is a slight guilt building up inside of him, knowing that perhaps he should have let her finish her story. Then again, he really _does_ have important business to attend to. And he cannot want to wait any longer; Zen, however, can.

###### 

Jumin is greeted by the two guards he has stationed in front of his house.

“Good evening, Mr. Han.”

“Good evening.”

“Your friend is already inside.”

As Jumin presses the last digit of the code of his lock, he turns his head to the side, thinking he may have heard incorrectly.

“Excuse me?”

“The silver-haired man. He announced he would be waiting for you here, and Assistant Kang confirmed this with you earlier today.”

“What the—“

Jumin pulls the door open, instant anger raging inside of his head. Is this what Assistant Kang had been trying to tell him?

When he enters the living room, his shoes still on, he finds someone standing on the other side in his kitchen, back turned to him. Someone with shimmering silver hair, a long, sleek ponytail bundled together and reaching until below his waist. 

“Zen,” Jumin says bitterly, “what in the world are you doing here?”

The silver ponytail sweeps dramatically to the side as Zen turns around in shock, swinging his arms around his back as he stares at Jumin wide-eyed, blinking a few times and swallowing.

“Oh Jumin, y-you’re home,” he stammers and Jumin frowns. “Yes, I am. Were you expecting me not to come back to my own house?”

“Yeah, no – of course. I was waiting for y—ACHOO!”

Jumin sighs and walks up to his dinner table on his left, putting his briefcase down on the floor and hangs his jacket neatly over one of the chairs. “Your allergy. You must have a very good reason to show up here.”

“I do,” Zen replies with a sniff, and Jumin notices his nose colours slightly less pale than usual, then realising that compared to the man’s cheeks that is nothing; Zen’s usual glowing pearl white, perfectly smooth skin is flushed almost bright red, as if flustered or caught in the middle of something shameful. 

The two men have known each other for quite a while now, but most of their communication goes via the RFA chat. There are not many opportunities for Jumin to encounter Zen like this; so close and personal. Actually, Jumin realises this is the first time they have ever _really_ been alone. The only other moment it had been just the two of them was at the entrance at last year’s RFA party, and even that brief moment had caused for conflict between them. 

It is no secret that Jumin and Zen do not get along. It is an endless battle between ‘the rich kid who was born with a silver spoon’ and the ‘narcissistic pretty boy who won’t accept anyone’s help’ – a war between two classes in a way; one without a winner.

Upon taking a slow step closer, the unwelcome guest gasps softly and Jumin’s brow pulls together. He halts in his tracks and takes the time to observe Zen from head to toe, instantly remembering how _picture perfect_ this man’s physical appearance seems to be; how his strangely coloured hair naturally falls into place, no matter his movements, his bangs shaping his face flatteringly as they curl around his cheekbones and reveal his sharp jawline underneath. His sleek figure that fits so _agonizingly_ well into anything he puts on; even the long-sleeved grey V-neck t-shirt he is currently wearing on top of a pair of plain, tight black jeans manages to flatter him somehow, as if the outfit was crafted with magic to fit him, and him alone. 

His face annoys Jumin the most; symmetrical as if carved out of the finest, smoothest stone by the most gifted of sculptors, whose aim it was to create the most unrealistically beautiful human being; nose sharp, soft, pink lips with a perfect upper-bottom lip ratio, and eyes with a unique glow, capturing any soul that looks into them into a strange hypnosis out of which trying to escape is futile.

Eyes that remind Jumin of something, waking the beast deep inside of him. 

Eyes red and round.

Yes, Zen is a narcissist – a big one at that, and Jumin fucking hates it. Yet he cannot help but feel like the actor’s narcissism is completely justified, and he hates that even more.

He notices how the man is trying to hide the fact that his breathing is a little off; almost as if he is panting, subtly – but not so subtly – leaning back against the cooking island for support, his arms still behind his back. Zen takes one deep, shuddering breath, his eyes flickering over Jumin’s body, finally resting on his face. 

“Jaehee she… you give her too much work.”

Jumin rolls his eyes in annoyance. “Is this what you came here for? To tell me how to delegate work to my assistant?”

“Yes,” Zen replies, then licks over his bottom lip and bits into it, shifting his body strangely. He swallows once more. “She was at my house for several nights and did nothing but work. You… treat her like a slave.”

When Jumin takes another step closer he definitely notices Zen’s behaviour is stranger than usual, which may be because he invited himself into the house of a person he greatly dislikes, but the black-haired man suspects it isn’t just that. 

“Although I appreciate that you worry for Assistant Kang, this is none of your business. If she felt that she would not be able to handle the work given to her, she would tell me directly.”

“You are so oblivious to everything, aren’t you?” Zen scoffs, and Jumin squints his eyes at him. “If you would only have a single grain of empathy you would be able to understand tha—“

“Empathy? Assistant Kang is my employee. I pay her royally and she leads a life without shortcomings. Emotions do not have anything to do with work.”

Zen opens his mouth to answer, but instead of words rolling of his tongue, his breath hitches in his throat and he inhales and exhales strangely, as if out of breath, lips trembling slightly. Jumin’s brow pulls in confusion and approaches the younger, who seems to attempt to back further up into the black marble behind him. 

The two now stand half an arm’s length away from each other, and Jumin puzzlement grows. There may be some truth to him being oblivious to emotions, but that does not prevent him from realising there is something peculiar going on – there is something unusual about Zen’s expression, Jumin noticing a gleam of panic in them, and the man does his best to lean back as far as possible, as if afraid to be touched.

“J-Jumin,” Zen’s voice trembles as he speaks and he drags the sound of Jumin’s name into something that does not sound far off from a moan.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jumin asks and reaches for Zen’s shoulder.

“NO!” The other yells while swinging his arms out in front of him and Jumin flinches, quickly retracting his own. “Please d-don’t touch me. I feel really strange.”

“Strange? Is it your allerg—“

Jumin does not finish his sentence when his eye catches something in Zen’s hand. As one not easily swayed by things such as anger, the black-haired man takes a deep breath.

“Is that one of my cherries?”

Zen stares at the fruit in his hand and lets out a soft whimper. “You were taking so long and I— I just wanted to have _one_ , b-but they were so good I couldn’t control myse—“

“What?!”

The words send instant panic pulling at Jumin’s insides, and he shoves Zen aside, only to find his previously lavishly filled basket nearly empty. He can feel the other’s eyes on him from the side as he stares at the remaining few cherries – perhaps four or five only – lying pathetically in the middle. For a moment he is at a loss for words, but then something boils up inside of him, something unlike he has ever felt before. Slowly, and with deep, heavy breaths, he turns his head to the side, finding Zen petrified in his spot, guiltily averting his eyes as Jumin’s meet them.

“You…” Jumin’s voice is laced with rage and Zen backs away as the other approaches him. “You ate _all_ my fucking cherries?!”

“J-Jumin I—“

“Don’t you fucking Jumin me, you narcissistic asshole.”

The younger slams back into the wall behind him and gasps as Jumin closes in and takes a fistful of his grey shirt into his hand, pushing him further back up against the surface, trapping him helplessly. Their faces are so close that the tips of their noses almost touch, and Jumin can smell his precious cherries on Zen’s breath as the younger pants, convinced he can see traces of the fruit left on those pink lips, and wondering if he would still be able to taste it if he were to lick them.

“You have no idea what those cherries do.”

Jumin finds himself vexed, an uncharacteristic wrath brooding inside of him, but there is something else growing in the depths that contradicts that, yet intertwines with it so well in a way. Realising who it is he has pinned up against the wall sends his blood boiling, but the smell of cologne – a somewhat feminine scent somewhere caught between flowery and fiercely spicy (a brand that could easily be called something along the lines of _’the essence of lust’_ ) – and the sweetness of _his_ cherries make his heart pound faster; blood rushing through his veins so fast he swears he can feel it in the tips of his fingers.

He grins. “Or perhaps you do.”

Small drops of sweat have started form themselves at Zen’s temples and down his neck, his skin now even a shade darker than before. His chest rises and drops fast against Jumin’s hand as his shirt is still locked in his fist. The older stares Zen into his eyes – a daring, provocative gaze which the other cannot fight. He is trapped.

“Hmm?” Jumin hums, waiting for him to answer, but when Zen opens his mouth he suddenly reaches down with his free hand cups it firmly over the man’s jeans, where he found the rock-hard evidence of he had expecting to find. Zen groans as Jumin rubs his hand over his covered erection, the older man’s grin widening deviously.

“F-Fuck,” Zen curses between his almost plaintive moans, “Fuck off, J-Jumin.”

In reply, Jumin chuckles darkly, his tone mocking as he speaks – his hand still working its way up and down the fabric of Zen’s jeans. “Has no one ever taught you that actions have consequences? That you should always live up to whatever you do, and suffer through those consequences, hmm _Hyun_?”

“I really…” Zen huffs with great effort, his lids now hanging low over his eyes, “really… can’t… stand you.”

Jumin ignores him, instead letting hits fingers smoothly run past the outline of the man’s hard cock. “The effect of a single one of those cherries,” he purrs, “is already amazing. It’s mind-blowing. But _you_ ,” he clicks his tongue and shakes his head, “who knows how many you ate. And however that does amuse me in a way, I will have to punish you accordingly.” 

Slowly, he reaches for Zen’s belt and pulls it open. The man whines in objection, but remains still as Jumin works at unbuttoning his jeans and pulling his zipper down. “My time is valuable, as are my precious cherries. You better not put either one to waste, Hyun.” 

Zen swallows thickly, then raises his arm to observe the single cherry still in his hand. “These aren’t really for your cat, are they?” In reply, Jumin swiftly moves his hand up and takes the fruit between his own fingers, then brings it to his lips and slide them over the skin seductively, licking around the shape as he maintains eye contact with the man before him, who eyes him intently. Jumin smiles around the fruit and then sinks his teeth into it, a single drop of juice gliding down his chin as he chews, turning the cherry around and taking a bite out of the other side.

Against all his own principles, he drops the seed on the floor after swallowing, left with only hints of that luscious sweetness on his tongue and lips that renders him weak and make him want more. Jumin lets go of Zen’s shirt and shifts his hand up, taking a fistful of his beautiful silver hair and pulling his head back as he closes the distance between them and presses his lips down on the younger’s. The moan that follows sounds like a half-hearted objection, but Jumin ignores it, letting his tongue explore the other’s mouth; longing for more of that sweet taste, hoping to find it there. 

Instead, he finds another; unfamiliar and enticing. One that, as Jumin realises by the rapidly growing bulge in his own trousers, excites him nearly just as much as his beloved fruit of seduction. The kiss is rough and messy, and Jumin although he relishes in Zen’s taste, he suddenly pulls back as he realises what he is doing – what the beast in him is _making_ him do.

While panting, traces of the younger still on his tongue, Jumin stares blinkingly Zen, who, with a frown opens his eyes, and then angrily steps forward towards Jumin, who expects the worst. “What are you doing?” Zen sneers, and the older wipes his mouth on his sleeve, his forehead now dewed with sweat. When Jumin does not answer, the younger takes another step forward and pushes him back violently, Jumin only barely able to keep himself from falling down on the kitchen floor.

“What the fuck?!”

“I could say the same fucking thing to you! You only care about your own pleasure, don’t you? I seriously can’t fucking stand you, you spoiled brat!”

“Oh yeah?”

Within a matter of seconds, Zen is back up against the wall, Jumin having him pinned against the surface by his wrists. The kiss that follows is more chaotic than the first – but completely two-sided this time; Zen roughly taking Jumin’s bottom lip between his teeth and letting his tongue clash with Jumin’s, as if in competition with the other. Jumin lets out a groan against Zen’s mouth as he pulls away and viscously sinks his teeth into the man’s neck.

“Fuck!” Zen groans in pain, and Jumin slips a hand into his jeans, now measuring up his erection through his soft, cotton underwear. He moves his face upwards and presses his lips against the younger’s ear. “Be a good boy and don’t complain,” he whispers, then softly sucks on Zen’s earlobe, who moans weakly in response to Jumin’s touch. 

With smooth strokes, Jumin lets his hand run over the younger’s hard cock from base to tip, gently applying some pressure where he knows he likes it best himself, which is welcomed by Zen moaning and his hand finding its way to Jumin’s black tie, tightening around it and pulling the older in even closer. Jumin smirks before pulling his hand away from Zen’s cock and wraps his hand around his throat while his other hand works its way under his shirt. 

“That is not how this works,” he whispers, and he feels Zen swallow thickly against his palm. Then, Jumin instantly realises who it is he is dealing with, when the silver-haired man’s face tenses and he is suddenly pushed back, his grip broken. He stumbles on his feet and Zen steps forward aggressively, reaching out and grabbing hold of Jumin’s vertically pin-striped button-up shirt. Without warning he rips it open, and several buttons fly across the room. Jumin stares down at his bared chest and stomach, twitching with rage as he glances back up.

“This is a limited edition Verragamo!”

“Do I look like I give a fuck?”

Jumin is forced back up against the kitchen counter and Zen takes the opportunity to unbutton the older man’s trousers and slip his hand inside while pressing their lips back together. Longing to taste the younger once more, Jumin cannot get himself to do anything else but to surrender, quickly finding Zen’s tongue welcome him back and letting his own take in every inch of it. He moans as the younger slides his hand over his member _just right_. Somehow he knows exactly what Jumin’s weakness is; exactly what it is he wants as he grips around his cock through his underwear and teases him by slightly pumping him through the fabric.

In the moment, his pure hatred for Zen makes a swift return as Jumin lets his head lean against the kitchen cabinet behind him on the wall, his eyes closed as their tongues are at war with each other. 

_Who the fuck does he think he is?_

Without Zen noticing, the older grips the collar of his V-neck with both hands and pulls with all of his strength, tearing it apart and instantly running his nails over the younger’s exposed skin as a punishment.

Zen pulls back angrily and Jumin takes his chance to regain control over the situation, hating how he allowed to lose himself under the touch of the younger, even if just briefly. 

“Cheap things tear easily,” he grins while backing Zen up against the wall again, pulling his tie loose and dropping it on the floor together with his torn shirt. He stands fully topless and pulls Zen’s jeans down to to his knees, his underwear soon following leaving his erection to stand upright, pressed against his stomach in its full glory.

Jumin licks his lips at the sight and pulls his own trousers and underwear down, kicking his shoes off as well, then pressing their bodies close and wrapping his hand around the side of both of their cocks as they rub up against each other.

“Shit,’ Zen curses under his breath while closing his eyes, and as Jumin has his throbbing erection pressed against the younger’s, he feels himself aching and screaming for more than the mere touch of skin on skin. 

“I fucking hate you.”

“You fucking brat,” Jumin pants and wraps his free hand around Zen’s throat once more, his other still working at pleasurably gliding up the base of both their cocks. “What did I say about complaining?”

“I—I’m not one of your employees. You can’t tell me what to do, shithead.”

“Oh?”

Zen’s provocative tone make something inside of Jumin growl, the most primal of urges flaming up like an untameable fire, stemming from before a time of human decency; before social constructs and manners. He moves his hand away from Zen’s throat and grabs onto his hair, pushing him down on his knees. The younger sends curses flying at Jumin’s head, but the older ignores all of them, wrapping his fingers around his hard member and pressing it up against Zen’s lips, smearing them with pre-come. 

As soon as the younger opens his mouth to protest, Jumin slips inside and lets his cock glide over his wet tongue, slowly beginning to fuck into him. The older bites on his bottom lip while observing Zen as his cock disappears entirely between the younger’s lips and he makes a gagging sound. For a brief moment they make eye contact as Jumin still has hold of Zen’s hair, forcing him to look up at him. The younger doesn’t object as Jumin slides his erection back and forth into his mouth, saliva and pre-come now dribbling messily down his chin.

“Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” Jumin asks him, it being a statement rather than a question. Zen’s tongue gliding past his shaft almost all the way up to his base and back renders his knees weak and shaking; something he does not want to show. Instead, he tightens the grip on the younger’s hair and forces his head back and forth faster. The older can’t help but let out a growl that comes from deep within him, closing his eyes as Zen’s lips slide over his skin, wet and warm, sucking at his tip eagerly, his tongue swirling around in clean, smooth motions that send Jumin head into the clouds.

 _Shit._ What the fuck is going on? It is hard enough to admit to himself that Zen is the core of his many sexual fantasies, but actually feeling his lips wrapped around his cock is better than anything he could have ever imagined. He is better than _anyone_ Jumin had ever been with in his entire life. 

He slams himself harder into Zen’s throat and feels the man gag around him. When he opens his eyes he finds the younger with his eyes closed and cheeks coloured bright red – completely flustered. Jumin shifts his free hand from his side to Zen’s cheeks and strokes over it with his thumb with his other hand still filled with a fist-full of hair. 

“That’s a good boy.”

At the words, Zen moans eagerly and willingly bobs his head faster down Jumin’s member, the tip of his tongue teasingly sliding over his entire length and burrowing his tip deep inside of his throat, making the older man curse under his breath and thrusting harder and faster with every movement. 

As Jumin tightens the grip on Zen’s head even more, the younger letting out a shuddery exhale through his nose, he feels something wet glide over his thumb. The older opens his eyes and looks down at Zen, who is still willingly taking in all of him, a few tears escaping from his eyes, which are pressed shut, down his cheeks. 

Instantly, Jumin pulls out, a string of saliva mixed with pre-come hanging between Zen’s mouth and his cock, and more of the same mixture dripping down his chin and neck. The younger opens his eyes and gasps as the black-haired man pulls his head back and forces him to meet his gaze.

“What the fuck did I say about complaining?”

“I—“

“Shut up.”

Zen scrambles back to his feet as Jumin pulls him up forcefully. He presses their bodies together and meets the younger’s lips in a brief chaotic and somewhat aggressive kiss, letting his other hand slide down the man’s ass and sinks his nails into his flesh. 

“Jumin,” Zen moans against the older man’s lips, who replies with a dark chuckle. “No you don’t,” he says, “You call me Mr. Han. I _own you_ now.”

“No fucking wa— AH!”

Before Zen is able to properly object, Jumin pulls his head further back and forces him to the side and bending him over the top of the cooking island. The younger’s face plants on the black marble and Jumin slides two of his own fingers into his mouth, wetting them royally with saliva and pulling them out with a slight _pop_ , then rubbing them against Zen’s entrance, teasing him with the mere friction. 

The younger gasps loudly. “J-Jum—“

Jumin moves his hand from the top of Zen’s head to below, and grabs hold of his ponytail, tugging hard on it.

“What did you say?”

“N-No!” Zen whimpers, “Mr. Han.”

“Good boy.”

When Jumin slides both of his fingers in at once carefully, knowing very well that the initial penetration will burn, Zen writhes, swinging his arms over the marble to try to hold onto _something_ to stabilise himself, but instead swings a jar off the top, the shattering of the glass ringing in their ears. Naturally, this pisses Jumin off, and he thrusts his fingers in deep and hard, resulting in the younger letting out a loud sob.

“You fucking good for nothing narcissist. You have no value for other people’s belongings, do you?”

“I— oh god,” is the only thing Zen is able to roll of his tongue, and Jumin answers this with another tug of his hair. “Answer me.”

“I d-don’t, Mr. Han.”

“That’s right.”

Jumin works at fingering Zen, much rougher than he usually would start off with, but reminding himself (after this bad judgement) who he is dealing with; Zen taking it fully with breathless whimpers. After the sliding of his fingers in and out of Zen’s tight hole feels smooth enough, he pulls both out and wets a third, soon burrowed back deeply inside of the silver-haired man, who gasps at the fuller girth initially, but soon moaning uncontrollably and unfiltered on top of his hosts marble, cursing weakly whenever he finds the strength to do so.

“Fu... I… shit. Oh god.”

Jumin quickly grows bored with penetrating Zen with his fingers alone and pulls out, and the younger whimpers in complaint, but the black-haired man provides him with much more than his mere, sleek fingers, when he wets his achingly hard cock and slides it inside of him. This is received by the younger with another moan, louder than any before.

“Jesu— _fuck_!”

Jumin groans as he slowly slides deeper inside of Zen, his cock throbbing at the feeling of Zen’s tightness around him, and his hot, soft flesh sliding over his own. 

“Shit, Zen,” Jumin pants while bending slightly over and grabbing hold of Zen’s thigh with one hand, while he lets the other roll around his ponytail for a better grip. Slowly, he begins at pulling back and thrusting forward, making sure that, despite the situation, he doesn’t hurt the younger too much. After Zen’s slightly pained moans turn into more dragged out and pleasant ones, Jumin picks up the pace and growls as the friction of his throbbing member inside of the other man renders him dizzy; his brain slowly beginning to run on auto-pilot as he fucks him harder and deeper. Soon, Jumin finds himself balls deep in Zen, fucking him fiercely while pulling on the silver hair in his fist.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” he murmurs with effort, the only reply from the younger being a desperate whimper as his body slams against the marble. 

Jumin loses himself almost completely in the rhythm, sinking his nails deeper into Zen’s thigh. The sounds that come out of the younger’s throat are something like breathless sobs, and knowing that it’s all because of _him_ sends shocks of pleasure through Jumin’s limbs. 

In the moment he finally realises why it’s always Zen. How could it ever be anyone else than Zen – the one person in his life he does not have control over. The one person who does not cower under his command and power; who is unfazed by his status. 

The one person he longs to _destroy_ completely. 

It is anger that drives him; a certain sense of hatred, his own passionate lust, and the insatiable, divine effect of the red fruit on his body. He grunts between his deep exhales, his cock twitching harder with every deep thrust inside of Zen, who sounds like he is barely able to keep himself together, his head forced back in his neck by the grip on his hair.

But it’s not enough for the older – he wants _more_. Having full control over Zen is one thing, but watching him fall apart is what he truly longs for; to watch his picture pretty face and body broken under his control.

Jumin pulls out, his cock aching under the loss of warmth and mind-blowing friction, and he wraps a hand around himself while forcing Zen up from the marble by his hair. 

“Ah—“

“Shut the fuck up.”

When Zen is forced to turn around and Jumin looks at him, he smirks contently. The younger’s face is completely flushed and wet with tears, his lids heavy and lips trembling. His entire body is glowing with sweat, and his breathing is hitched and shuddering. He swallows upon meeting the older man’s gaze, whose eyes wander down to the younger’s erection.

“Beautiful,” he grunts and shifts his hand from Zen’s hair to his neck, applying pressure and forcing him forward to meet him in a sloppy, somewhat toothy and painful kiss. Jumin lets his tongue forcefully dominate the younger’s, tightening the grip on his neck when he kisses back a little _too eagerly_ for his liking, and the younger’s hands find Jumin’s waist. 

“Hmghr,” Zen painfully groans against his lips, to which Jumin bites into the lower, then finding his way to the younger’s neck and softly scraping his teeth over the skin beneath his ear and bites into his flesh while pumping himself slowly, the younger responding with a yelp.

“So beautiful.”

From over the other’s shoulder he spots something spilled over the front of his cooking island. He pulls back, his expression completely changed; the smirk that had curved around his lips melted off his face and his eyes darkly flickering over the younger.

“Did you fucking come _on my marble?_ ”

Zen opens his mouth, but Jumin does not grant him the opportunity to answer. Instead, he shifts his hand from the man’s neck back to his throat, wrapping it around and pressing into the side with his fingertips, pushing Zen back into the counter, his ass against the edge.

“You worthless piece of shit.”

Zen lets out a raspy choking sound and Jumin chuckles mockingly while letting his eyes wander down to the younger’s cock, which is still has hard before.

He tuts. “So _needy._ Get on.”

Zen immediately obeys the command and heaves himself on top of the cooking island, Jumin’s hands working at spreading his legs wide open, climbing on the counter himself in the middle of the other’s legs. Once they are both positioned, his hand finds its way back around Zen’s throat and he pushes him down flat on the cold surface, hovering his body over his.

Silver strands of hair poke wildly into every direction as the man lies pinned to the counter, swallowing under the grip of his nemesis; wrecked and defeated. But still not wrecked enough for Jumin’s liking; he is used to getting what he wants, and today will certainly not be an exception to that.

As he teasingly runs his tongue over the younger’s ear, the tiniest of gasps forcing its way out of Zen’s throat, Jumin inhales that familiarly alluring scent that makes his mouth water, now mixed with the man’s sweat – if anything it only makes the older want him more, and he wastes no time.

With his free hand he pumps himself a few times, then spits into his palm and lathers himself royally before pushing his tip back into Zen’s hole; the tightness welcoming him back more pleasurable than he remembers and he groans hard, feeling the younger trying to produce sound under the pressure of his hand, but failing.

Within no time Jumin finds himself thrusting back into him with ease, low and deep grunts erupting from the darkest depths of him as he rolls his hips back and forth, Zen’s legs pressed tightly up against his body, as if afraid he might leave.

Jumin realises he feels his orgasm closing in on him, much faster than he had anticipated. As he fixates his gaze on Zen’s face, his own eyes meeting the younger’s, he realises why. As he watches the tears run down his face he knows that in this moment Zen is finally his. He finally owns him completely; a powerless victim under his dominance. 

He clenches his teeth and tightens his grip around Zen’s throat, his other hand finding its way down to Zen’s cock beginning to pump up and down. The sounds coming out of Zen’s mouth are barely audible; hitched, short breaths and something sounding close to something that should have been moaning. Jumin feels the younger’s nails burrow into his arm, and the pain makes him roar, and he thrusts harder into the man under him, not wanting to give him the pleasure of having any control over him whatsoever.

“ _You’re mine._ ”

These two words seem to be enough for Zen to send him over the edge, and Jumin feels him come hard as his hand slides upward over the tip of his cock and feels him spill warmly into his palm. Jumin quickly takes his hand off the man’s throat, resulting into Zen immediately inhaling deeply breaking out in loud moaning, still in the midst of his orgasm.

Jumin thrusts harder into him while keeping his gaze locked on the younger’s face; his lips apart and head leaning back onto the surface as he arches his back with eyes pressed firmly shut. Watching Zen fall apart is more than enough for Jumin to reach his high within a matter of mere seconds.

“Ohh—fucking hell,” he groans right before one last thrust sends him flying – feeling as if months – _no_ , years of insatiable lust spill out all at once, deep inside of Zen. With an orgasm more raging and demanding than he has ever experienced shooting through his entire body, he leans on his forearms for support, his mouth pressed against the side of Zen’s face.

“Sh—Zen…” He moans, and feels the younger’s arms wrap around his body, a hand finding its way up to the nape of his sweat-drenched neck. His cock twitches heavenly a few more times as he manages to slowly thrust forward once more, and then he feels himself go completely weak – there is no strength left in his limbs and he lets himself lie partially on Zen for support, his face burrowed into his neck as he pants in the messy aftermath of his orgasm. 

From under him there is cramped breathing; the younger’s throat likely still sore, and Jumin feels his chest rise and fall against his own, their skin wetly and stickily pressing together. After a minute of silence, Jumin has regained his breath and ability to think again – only then fully realising how awkward the result all of this could be. 

He lifts his head to look Zen in the eyes, and wordlessly the two just stare at each other for while. Jumin isn’t entirely sure how he feels – whether deep inside of him his hatred for this man still growls as loudly as it did before, or whether something else slowly grows within him. 

Without thinking he lifts his arm up and swipes sticky silver strands of Zen’s bangs out of his face, to which the younger flinches slightly, his brow pulling together in somewhat of a frown. Despite that, Jumin takes his chances and presses their lips together, the younger hesitant for a moment, but soon meeting the older man’s tongue with his own.

Although the kiss is not one out of love, it is calmer and more passionate than before – not purely driven by hatred or blind lust. Jumin breaks away and grins deviously.

“My beautiful Zen.”

Zen purses his lips and snorts. “Go fuck yourself, Jumin.”

###### 

**Jumin Han has entered the chatroom.**

**Jaehee Kang**  
Mr. Han, are you back home?

 **Yoosung***  
Hey it’s Jumin~

 **Jumin Han**  
Hello.  
Yes, I am back.

 **707**  
lololol I can’t believe you took another trip to the cherry farm so soon.

 **Yoosung***  
yeah! Elizabeth the 3rd must really like those cherries lolol!

**Zen has entered the chatroom.**

**Jaehee Kang**  
Hello Zen~

 **Zen**  
Hey everyone

 **Yoosung***  
Yo!

 **707**  
Zenzenzen

 **Jumin Han**  
Hello.

 **Zen**  
Oh. Jumin, you’re back home.

 **Jumin Han**  
Yes.

 **Zen**  
Did you get a new batch of cherries?

 **Jumin Han**  
I did.  
A double batch, actually.

 **707**  
oooooh, u should give me some!

 **Jumin Han**  
No.

 **707**  
Wow… T_T

 **Jumin Han**  
Now, I have to go attend to important business.  
Jaehee, I have made arrangements for your replacement.  
You have the entire week off.

 **Jaehee Kang**  
??!!!!

 **707**  
WHAAAAT?!!

 **Yoosung***  
Omg the world is ending;;

 **Jumin Han**  
Please do not disturb me under any circumstances, understand?

 **Jaehee Kang**  
I do not understand, but I will not call you message you.

 **Zen**  
Go do something fun, Jaehee!

 **Jumin Han**  
Yes, I agree.

 **Yoosung***  
?!?! Zen and Jumin agreeing with each other…

 **707**  
Something strange is going on and I’m scared;;;; T_T

 **Jumin Han**  
I will take my leave now.

 **Zen**  
Yep, I gotta go too.

 **Jaehee Kang**  
Where are you going, Zen?

 **Zen**  
Uhm…;;  
Out to eat.

 **Jaehee Kang**  
Oh, enjoy.

 **Zen**  
Thank you, I will.

**Jumin Han has left the chatroom.**

**Zen has left the chatroom.**

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to make this the first part to a MM (JxZ) smut-drabble series ~


End file.
